To Sail Onwards After All
by LazyWriterGirl
Summary: At three-and-twenty Quinn Fabray has come to view the pirate kingdom as her new home, and is torn between the affections of a fierce captain and a sweet pirate maiden. Meanwhile her father is out for her blood. With the revelation of a great betrayal will Quinn ever be free? Or will she be trapped in the life from which she once fled? Pirate AU, Endgame! Quinntana
1. The Poverina

**So despite my better judgement I'm starting a new multi-chap whilst doing one thing I have normally done and one that I have yet really to do. I'm letting this story plot it's own course, while at the same time relying on you for the majority of what happens. More on that after the pilot chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own pirates, the navy, or Glee. Sorry.**

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Her father had been a pirate. _Her father, _the now-renowned Admiral Russell Fabray had been a pirate. Well… the son of a pirate, at any rate; he'd turned against his father and been granted an act of pardon before manoeuvring himself into a marriage with the late Admiral Le Salle's daughter. The patronage he had received upon marrying Judith le Salle and the skill he'd shown aboard a number of His Majesty's vessels had proven enough to earn him the position of Lieutenant at the age of twenty three. Aboard the deck of the _Poverina_,Lucille Fabray – though she'd never admit to her first name being anything other than Quinn– shakes her head with disdain. She'd chosen to escape the life her parents had so conveniently laid out for her, only to find that even in this new world of bloodlust, thievery and organized anarchy she cannot escape her father's legacy.

Now he hunts his daughter with gusto, ashamed that a scion of the great Fabray line would turn to piracy out of nothing more than "a silly woman's wish for adventure". The hypocrite, Quinn thinks as she passes a hand under her bandanna. Scanning the deck of the _Poverina_ Quinn's eyes come to rest on the woman who'd tipped her off in regards to her father's past and current actions. A grateful light softens her gaze though the blue-eyed brunette cannot possibly see it. Had it not been for the cook's daughter, she would have continued to postpone plans for the mutiny, opening herself to elevated chances of Schuester or one of his loyalists learning of her true identity. While a non-issue with the majority of the pirate kingdom, the Schuester family had been in partnership with her grandfather Captain Peter Fabray. Russell's betrayal burns brighter than any insult in the hearts of the entire Schuester clan, and her presence aboard the _Poverina _would be compromised if anyone were to learn of her relation to their most hated enemy. Commands in the form of Captain Schuester's voice register in her ears, but are quickly forgotten. He is calling for his first-mate, Hudson.

Quinn turns her head to focus on the tall man gingerly descending from the rigging, scoffing at his obvious discomfort. Still, he is as good a man as a pirate can be and has caused little grief to her, so she is able to hold her tongue and instead turns her attention back to the brunette woman, surprised to find blue-eyes matching her gaze. Marley Rose may outrank her aboard this ship, being the ship master's apprentice, but Quinn knows two things for sure. She knows that she is by far the other woman's superior in each and every aspect of being a pirate, save for the seemingly effortless camaraderie which Marley possesses with their fellow shipmates. More importantly than that however, she knows – much like she knows that Hudson is going to have to get help to untangle his foot from the rigging soon – that the other woman's affections for her have long since pulled away from the platonic, respectful friendships which have become nothing but distant memories in Quinn's mind. She knows this second, infinitely more interesting thing for one simple reason. She too has become quite enamoured with the stunning young woman, one who seems altogether too kind-hearted to be in the business of sinking ships and slitting throats. It is a dangerous emotion, this newfound affection, for there can be only one who holds her heart and ultimately it must not be the sweet, unassuming young pirate maiden.

"You know, Quinn, if you were wanting to speak with her you could simply be doing so now." Rachel's peasant accent is overreaching and though she herself will not suffer too badly once news of her parentage spreads amongst the pirate kingdom, Rachel's poor attempts to assimilate into the faceless sea of bandits will make matters all the worse when she is inevitably unveiled as the daughter of one of King Beryl's High Councilmen and his husband, the most known ambassador of the Beryl kingdom. "You know, she's being a beautiful maiden, perhaps a match for yourself?"

"If you _were wanting_ to fit in more around here, mayhap your accent would be brought a little closer to the standard you'd been accustomed to using since your birth. No lineage as inescapably public as mine, or yours for the matter, could be kept a secret for much longer, at any rate." At the mention of making a match with Marley, Quinn sighs. "Besides, you know as well as I that I am claimed by another. There is nothing I can offer Marley by way of my affections."

Rachel frowns at Quinn's earlier statements, completely disregarding the latter comment and, ever the dramatic actress, sighs loudly. Quinn laughs as the wind tugs playfully at her hair, stealing the bandanna from her head and whisking it up, up towards the crow's nest. "Well what do you expect aside from a sub-par performance? Father and Papa would be so ashamed—

"Even more so than they already are? You've become a pirate's mistress, a pirate in your own right, to be honest. You chose love Rachel, now don't whinge," Quinn interjects softly, her gaze rolling almost instinctively to Marley once again. Momentarily she forgets that today is an important day. "Rachel…" Her eyes sharply begin to scan the air and the surrounding seas. The _Poverina_ is secure; this is but a simple fishing expedition after all, and the mutiny will completely throw Schuester's less-than-capable crew unawares. The fool had gone and brought a crew comprised in equal halves of his most loyal, trusting sailors and his most discontented ones. Quinn reminds herself that once this is over she must return to collect those who had been interested in leaving Schuester's command for that of a pirate more capable.

"It is to take place now?" Rachel's lip quivers nervously and the blonde pirate woman can tell that her companion is frightened. Mutiny is not dealt with lightly anywhere, be it on an official Navy ship such as the HMS _Excelsior _commanded by Admiral Fabray, or here aboard the _Poverina, _a fine pirate's vessel lead by the least competent man for the job. Should they fail, not even interference from the current ruler of the pirate kingdom will be enough to save them. A captain has the right to punish would-be mutineers in whichever form he or she deems most acceptable, with the punishments ultimately ending in death.

Quinn purses her lips before answering, eyes now settling on the hunch of Captain Schuester's shoulders as he frustratingly navigates towards a small collection of rocks off the starboard side of the ship. He's been forced to direct the _Poverina_ around the bay all morning long. His exasperation at the lack of fish weighing down the nets the fishermen had attached to the vessel's gleaming broadsidesearlier in the morningis beginning to show in his tone and expression. She feels a flash of pity; in all truth he is a fair if incompetent captain, a soft man thrust into their line of work out of a sense of duty to his parents, both of whom were pirates of some renown in their days... Sacrifices are a necessary evil however, and she would rather it were he and his most loyal men – first-mate Hudson being the exception due to his relationship with Rachel – than anybody for whom she actually cared. Speaking of first-mate Hudson, it is certainly a glorious thing that Schuester had decided to appoint a separate quartermaster aboard the _Poverina_, or he would have had to stay and risk the chance of joining the soon-to-be-dead.

"Call for Hudson, if you wish for him to be spared. Assemble the men and women who've stated their desire to be safe from the fighting. First-mate Pierce has already dispatched several smaller barques our way, I would imagine. I will give the signal as soon as I am made aware of the _Lovelia, _andmore specifically of your presence aboard her."

"Yes," Rachel lowers her eyes from Quinn's stern hazel ones for a moment before daring to look back up. "Would you like for me to escort both the ship master's mate and her mother to the escape route as well?" Quinn's eyes flash dangerously. She cannot possess Marley in the way she so desperately wishes to and Rachel, as her friend and confidante, knows this, knows that to bring the young woman aboard the _Lovelia _is to send her into uncertainty. Still… she does not wish for the girl and her mother to die at the hands of one of her comrades, and at the very least Quinn's authority aboard the _Lovelia_ will keep her safe for a time. "I will see to it that they are unharmed, Quinn. You have my word."

"Then go. I shall see you aboard the _Lovelia_." She turns away before Rachel can see the concern shade over her features. Quinn is not afraid. Her father had beaten the fear from her bones before she'd reached the beginnings of womanhood. She had watched her mother's fear grow with every tip of the bottle against her father's lips. No, she is not afraid. She is disgusted in herself, in the thrill she feels as the inescapable carnage draws ever closer.

"Quinn?" Marley's voice is too close. "Quinn what are you about to do? Why must we leave the ship?" Quinn wonders two things; chiefly, how has the woman managed to get so near to her without attracting her attention and secondly, how is it that she sounds as though she were not a trueborn pirate lass but rather a daughter of the Empire like Quinn and Rachel. And _her,_ Quinn thinks, though she shrugs off her curiosity and any thoughts of _her_ before addressing the young woman at her side.

"Marley, I can provide you with no explanations at this moment. Answer me this; do you trust me?" The brunette nods slowly, earning a small smile from the blonde. "Do you believe that I will do what is best for you and our comrades?" Another nod. "Do you understand that at the core of me, there lies a person discontent with malice?" Again a nod and a sweet, true smile. "Very good. Then please, listen to Rachel and all will be well. You will be safe, as will your mother. Now go," Quinn says gently. She can see that Rachel is standing a ways off; she's probably frustrated with the extra time they're losing but undoubtedly proud of herself for orchestrating this (possibly final) meeting. Marley still hasn't left Quinn's side and just as she turns in annoyance she spots stubbornness in the taller woman's blue eyes. There is no denying the pull she feels when Marley's lips land on hers. It's chaste, as pure as she had often dreamed kissing Marley would be, and she can feel herself warming to it. Before she can decide whether to pursue the innocent contact any further Quinn breathes in the briskness of the air and sees blue sadness peering down a fine nose as a soft voice blows puffs of breath across her cheek.

"Please be careful." Quinn can see something wet slither down one smooth cheek and she turns away as the words _for me_ ghost over her ears. Love has no place aboard the _Poverina, _or anywhere near Quinn should it be related to Marley. She has a battle to fight. Evidently Rachel can read the tense poise of her shoulders, and soon the sound of retreating footsteps is all that she hears. Captain Schuester is rattling off orders to try a course for a shore nearer the northern point of the bay, an advantageous position for the mutineers by any account. The _Lovelia _should be stationed near the large rock formations to the northwest of the shore, and Schuester is complacent enough with their safety not to have armed the majority of his men, or to have even brought a scout. Again, Quinn feels almost badly for the death she will soon bring upon the ship, but she shakes away the guilt. As a captain, William Schuester should have known better than to displease such a large number of his more capable sailors and officers. Sadly his life must end. The pirate kingdom's current ruler, Queen Susanna Sylvester – though she allows her favourites to address her as Sue – has a special vendetta against William Schuester, and upon securing his extermination Quinn and the mutineers of the _Poverina,_ as well as the entire crew of the _Lovelia, _are to be granted a reward, with the highest-ranking officers profiting with as much as an additional half-league by landlubbers' terms. In Quinn's case, she is one of two women who could possibly be granted ownership of the _Poverina_

Though the pirates do not follow the same system as that of His Majesty's Royal Navy, there is a hierarchy that has been set by Queen Sue. Schuester, for all his skill and charisma (or lack, thereof) is unfit to be a captain, though his strong navigational skills suggest he would have served much better as a ship's master. Due in part to her navy-brat upbringing, Quinn has the experience and skill to be recognized as what the navy would equate to a lieutenant, though aboard the _Poverina_ she serves as Schuester's master gunner, one of the youngest officers at the age of three-and-twenty. Soon that will change, she thinks as she steels herself to carry through with her mission.

Quinn feels the strong muscles under her skin flexing in preparation, her left hand fingering Schuester's prized pistol. It is a fantastic machine, and one for which Schuester will have little use upon his departure from the land of the living. As the _Poverina_ nears the northern shore, a sound akin to the fluttering of several birds' wings can be heard and around her Quinn can hear the sounds of metal scraping against wood as swords are drawn. Most of the expendables will have been greeted aboard the _Lovelia _already, seeing as Schuester was not a particularly well-mannered captain, and soon her own sword is out and glinting with something akin to glee as she stalks down the deck. Anybody still aboard the _Poverina _must be slain, an order stressed by both Queen Sue and the captain of the _Lovelia. _An order with which Quinn finds herself in absolute agreement.

One of the young sailmakers – she believes him to be the younger brother of master gunner Puckerman of the _Lovelia_ – nudges his head slightly towards the fore of the ship, clearly asking if Quinn would prefer somebody else to face the captain. She shakes her head firmly and he motions to the rest of the crew that they can do as they'd like, but that Captain Schuester is the responsibility of the master gunner herself. The mutiny officially begins as the young Puckerman aims a pistol between the eyes of the carpenter's mate, a young man who goes by the name Ryder, if Quinn is not mistaken. The sound of the gunshot and the combined thud of a body hitting the deck is the only thing that alerts Captain William Schuester to the mutiny. To the cries of battle that echo over the deck and the harsh cries from the mutineers, Quinn watches as Schuester's gaze drops upon her, and the bemused hatred in it spurs her into action.

* * *

It is a flawless, if bloody coup. With the state that Schuester's sailors had been in, it was a matter of minutes for the mutineers to prevail. Quinn orders for the Puckerman youth to remove Schuster's colours from the mainmast and set it alight from the crow's nest. As he sets about doing so Schuester, from his position kneeling beside the body of quartermaster Beiste, glares up into the sun with repulsion in his eyes. Quinn slaps him across the face once for daring to look at her directly, before turning towards the crow's nest and throwing her head back in delight as Schuester's family crest is disintegrated into charred nothingness.

"Ye bilge rat," he spits out at her, insults being the most he can manage as he struggles for breath. She shrugs; perhaps she is and perhaps she is not, but she is not foolish enough to heed the curses of a dying failure of a captain.

"Perhaps she is," a raspy voice rings out, commanding for its femininity. Quinn's gaze instinctively turns to the owner of the voice as she makes her way through the bodies. "Or perhaps she is not. I think not, Schuester, the only bilge rat aboard the _Poverina _would be you." As the Puckerman lad descends from the rigging the raspy-voiced woman bids him away, motioning towards a small gally bobbing calmly, oars at the ready. The young man bows respectfully and soon the steady splash of his oars dipping in and out of the water is the only sound. Only three pirates remain aboard the _Poverina _now, the rest, while pirates once, have all perished.

"_La Diabla Santana_," Schuester chokes out. Quinn does not speak as his fading eyes turn towards her again, questioningly, almost pleadingly. She stares down her nose with indifference until he turns away again.

"Ah, Captain William Schuester. Your parents will be ever so displeased to hear that their son has been slain out of his own stupidity. I would have rathered you dance a little hempen jig for me, but alas, milady had a much more brutal design in mind," Santana's voice savours every word as her hands come to rest upon Quinn's hips. Through the thin linen of her tunic Quinn welcomes the warmth of familiar hands. Killing may heat the blood, but her very skin burns cold. "You've done so well my love." Schuester's eyes flash as his flesh grows ever less responsive and his neck barely manages to twist, allowing him a restricted view of _Le Diabla _and his once-trusted master gunner.

"I declare the _Poverina _an unchartered vessel in the name of our queen, Susanna Sylvester," Quinn says as Santana's mouth nips lightly at her neck, stopping at a wound just under the blonde's chin. "In failing to recognize the signs of mutiny you have proven that you deserved to die this way, Captain Schuester." The dying man grimaces as the last of his strength begins to drain away, but it appears as though he will speak. "The last words of a dying ma—

"To Davy Jones' locker with you, wench! Siding with _La Diabla_ and ye 'queen' will be the death of you! A curse on y— the heel of Santana's boot presses firmly against the man's neck and stays there until it is clear that there is no life left in the late-captain.

"Looks as though you will be unable to sail onwards after all, dog." Santana's boots gleam with the blood of the fallen and as her foot leaves the late captain's neck, Quinn sees a red smear staining the skin.

Quinn watches as her lover spits contemptuously upon the body of her once-captain, no remorse enveloping her even as the tanned woman take a final kick at the dead man's body. "My love…" She is glad for the end of the mutiny, though some part of her wishes she had had longer to revel in the glory of bloodshed.

"My dearest, we shall return to the _Lovelia_ and leave this mess to be attended to by Queen Sue's men, aye? The _Poverina_ shall be yours. Have you a new name to bestow upon this vessel?" Santana's eyes watch hers as Quinn takes in the knowledge that she has been granted a ship of her own. The dark spheres glint with joy as it becomes apparent to the young captain that she has pleased her loved. Not a long ways off Quinn spots Santana's ship sailing towards the _Poverina_ and she knows that she must decided quickly before they are surrounded by too many people. Santana will not be pleased to share a tender moment with her before her crew.

"The _Proditor_." She does not mean to say it, but the honour with which she had been forcibly raised rises to the surface. _Traitor, _now she will forever be reminded of what she has done to secure a place for herself at the pirate queen's hall.

"So long as its former captain is the only one you shall betray so grievously," Santana says as her lips ghost once more over the thin cut hidden in the shadow of Quinn's angled chin.

"I will remain ever faithful to you and only to you, my love," she says even as the _Lovelia _comes within boarding distance and the pale, disbelieving face of Marley Rose comes into clear view. _A traitor is all you are, young Lady Fabray, betrayal is your very essence. Proditor, proditor, for shame._

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**And there we go, God I love pilots, don't you? Anyway, as I mentioned before, this story is intended to be a creation in and of itself, or the winds of imagination, or whatever. At the same time, any submissions/suggestions/corrections by you, the readers, may very well influence the story's progression. As such, just a few notes.**

**1) I no longer have a fanfiction specific Twitter account, though if you would prefer it I can reactivate my old account if that is your preferred method of communication.**

**2) There will be multiple uses of "pirate-speak" so if you would like, I can include the meanings of unfamiliar words in the A/Ns. Anything for you beautiful people.**

**3) Serious suggestions/submissions/ideas only please, I know it's AU and technically a crack!fic to some, but I don't want for it to read as one.**

**4) Even if you don't review (though that would be highly, highly appreciated), I would love to hear your suggestions via PM. Don't be shy, I'm sure you're a lot more creative than you give yourself credit for.**

**And that about wraps shit up for now, you've all been lovely. Go treat yourself to a cookie. Seriously.**

**OH and ONE LAST THING. Who are we focusing on next chapter? Marley, Quinn, or Santana? Let me know, or I'll just do my own thing. :)**

**~ Kay ~**


	2. The Lovelia

**So YEAH, HI! Sorry, I know it's been almost a month. In that time I have been listening to your suggestions and I promise, even if it may not seem like it at times, I am definitely listening to you. Hope you guys enjoy chapter 2 which is mostly a) backstory and b) filler.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own pirates or Glee, but if I did McKinley would be a ship captained by Brittany S. Pierce and first mate Lord Tubbington.**

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Repairs on the _Proditor_ are expected to take the queen's crew much longer than they'd originally thought, due to the onset of fall. Two weeks into autumn marks the beginning of raid-season, and Quinn desperately wants for a ship of her own to control. Sensing this, Queen Sue offers her one. The _Lady Jean_ is a fine vessel, one that Quinn would be proud to captain, but when her eyes alight upon the simple, solid oak of the handrails she knows that this was never meant to be her ship. She says so to the queen herself, in the most gracious manner she can afford without making herself look like such a highborn.

"So ye don't wish to captain the _Lady Jean_? I can't say I'm too disappointed, Diggory," Queen Sue says, Quinn's false surname soaring down from the woman's lips to smack her in the ear. "That ship is very important to me… there are others I can find fer ye, if ye were truly in want of a vessel to call yer own for now." Quinn shrugs. She is not completely sure of her abilities yet, and worries that her temperament would not do aboard a ship as captain. Serving under somebody else would be advantageous at this point.

"I… perhaps I am not yet ready, Highness," she says and cranes her neck respectfully. Queen Sue seems to mull over this admission for a short time.

"Then perhaps ye'd like to join another's crew. And not as the master gunner, this time… perhaps as the first mate and quartermaster?"

"Highness, would that not depend on the captain's wishes?"

A well-worn fury seems to glow in Queen Sue's eyes, causing Quinn to immediately regret her last words. Luckily it seems as though her Majesty's rage is not directed at the blonde before her. "These dogs, they all answer to me. I'll put ye on a ship that deserves yer abilities, and the captain can toss hisself or herself off the plank for all I care. Now, who is it yer most hankerin' to work fer?" Before Quinn can make any sort of sound the queen's harsh bark of laughter cuts her off. "A jest, silly lass. There is only one ship with such a position open and I do intend for ye to take it." The queen raises a goblet to her mouth, though from the look on her face the warm gold holds a foul concoction. "You will serve as the first mate and quartermaster aboard the _Lovelia_, Diggory. First mate Pierce, as you may have heard, will be out of commission for a while, and in the mean time _La Diabla_ needs a second-in-command."

"Santana…," Quinn almost wants to cry at the mention of the brunette; they've barely spoken in weeks. "Aye, ma'am, I shall gladly take up the position." In all honesty she's more bewildered about things than pleased.

"I am sure ye will." Queen Sue takes another swig of her murky brew, wiping her lips with a leisurely hand. "Captain Lopez is ashore as of yesterday, probably about to meet with the craftsman who I asked to make the _Lovelia_ a new figurehead. Ye should be headed to town. _La Diabla _is to engage a small fleet of His Majesty's merchant sloops in three days time. Now get out of here, lass, go on."

* * *

She makes her way through the castle town with little difficulty; most of Sue's pirates recognize her well enough by now. Quinn tousles her hair absentmindedly as the streets weave around houses and small shops before her. It never fails to impress her, the queen's "capital city" of Suemaria. The pirate kingdom of Queen Susanna has fared much better than any of the other attempted establishments the pirates had been able to come up with in the past, leaving the queen in charge of nearly every brigand and their vessels.

Some come from a long line of pirates, such as Queen Sue herself and that damned fool Schuester. Others are descended from merchants and bards, musical folk and trades-people, such as first mates Pierce and Hudson (not that either of them celebrates their positions aboard their respective ships anymore). A small boy in tatty clothes rushes past Quinn, nearly knocking her off balance. His mother waits for him a few steps ahead, and Quinn catches the glint of burnished steel in the fold of the pirate woman's apron, thinking it perfectly commonplace. She'd have never thought that this was appropriate for a woman before, but everything is different now. Her gaze swivels towards the more raucous neighbourh

oods off near the borders. The rest of Queen Sue's subjects are made up of either the relations of criminals or, in the case of the majority of Santana's crew, the progenies of unions between a parent of any of the previously mentioned lineages and a highborn. The trick to telling who these children are is glaringly obvious, as Quinn had learned on her first day away from home.

Children belonging to at least one parent who is or was once classed as highborn, no matter their build, coloration or countenance, possess a certain accent that is unique to the upper echelons of the Empire. They do not sound as stiffly correct or artistic as the pure-born children of the elite class, of course, but there is no denying your Empire heritage if you have the accent. Santana has it. The Puckerman brothers have it. Quinn ducks as a shopkeeper's sign dips dangerously low, catching a glimpse of bright blue paint that matched a certain brunette's eyes. Marley has the accent, she reminds herself. Marley's accent is stronger than most – almost as strong as Quinn's and Rachel's – something which makes the blonde woman slightly uneasy. In the weeks following the mutiny, Quinn has thought long and hard about the meaning behind the brunette's kiss. She knows that she finds Marley attractive; most people do, including Santana herself; she's not made it clear in her words, but her eyes follow the taller brunette sometimes when she believes nobody is watching. Even still…A loud splattering sound reaches the blonde's ears, interrupting her musings. Her front side is dyed red with warm fruit filling, the dying protests of the pie she'd not noticed was being offered to her.

"Oh! So sorry miss," a girl of about twelve watches the blonde warily as she dabs at Quinn's now stained tunic in vain. Her hands tremble slightly and Quinn takes pity on the freckled youth, wondering what it is about her that is making the poor girl act so frightened. She watches carefully as the pie-merchant's daughter eyes the holster resting on her right hip and the hilt of her cutlass on the other; the poor girl is positively terrified.

"Don't worry. I didn't much like this tunic anyway," Quinn says, handing the youngling a few small silver coins. "For the pie, which I'm sure would have been delicious." The girl's profuse thank you's bring a smile to her face and Quinn walks onward, endeavouring to stop at some small alley along the way to dispose of her soiled clothing. It would not do to present herself to Santana in such a state. Then again, the first time they'd met, Santana had been in much worse shape than this.

* * *

Thunderstorms were never much of a bother for Quinn. In truth, she quite liked the soft silence following all the loud crashing of the elements. One such night, following the furious raging of the skies, Quinn came to hear a soft rapping at the parlour door. Surprised, the fifteen year-old answered the mysterious caller herself, only to find that it was not a caller at all but a young woman, about two or three years older than herself. She was no ordinary woman either. Quinn distinctly remembers the force of the shock her eight-years-younger self registered at the sight of somebody bleeding half to death in her parlour doorway. Without questioning it Quinn half-pulled, half-carried the young woman up to her quarters, thankful that her parents would be late in returning from her grandfather's home. With little concern for the dignity of both herself and the injured woman, Quinn slowly stripped the bloody clothes from the young lady's body. The gashes searing against the tanned flesh were disturbingly fresh. Slowly, and even more carefully than before, Quinn guided the woman towards her private bathing room, praising God that she was the eldest and thus entitled to private luxuries. It was convenient that Quinn's mother had instructed the maids to ensure that fresh bathing water be prepared each evening; while a wasteful, impractical habit – made possible, Quinn was sure, only due to the wealth accrued by her father and grandfather – Quinn's only task now was simply to place the wounded woman in the soaking warmth. She wouldn't have known how to prepare a bath on her own otherwise, she thought, as some of the woman's wounds sunk below the water and out of her sight.

Quinn set to washing the most aggravated cuts in her most gentle scented soap. She'd heard her father's men discussing how easily wounds were infected and wanted to make sure that this woman would be safe in her care. Every now and again the lady lying practically unconscious in her bathing tub would make a small whimper or moan, rather like the sounds made by an animal harmed in the wild. "How did you come upon such injury?" She was not asking the woman, rather she was thinking aloud, so it was to her surprise when a soft, husky voice gasped out a string of words.

"Your concern… is kind. I came to harm… in the city." _She speaks well… who would harm a highborn daughter?_

"At whose hands did you suffer this abuse?" Quinn asked.

"It doesn't m-matter," the woman's voice had been dangerously quiet. "What is your name?" Quinn reminisces on the confusion she'd felt at that question. Surely a woman in such bad form would not be interested in anything other than her own rest and healing?

"Lucille," she said politely, though a grimace darkened her features. "What might your name be, ma'am?" She knew that it was probably not appropriate for her to be asking the woman her name (not to mention calling a complete stranger and fellow young woman ma'am).

"Santana. It's lovely to meet y-you, Miss… Lucille."

At fifteen Quinn had already known that she was different from the prim young ladies her mother often insisted she spend the day sewing or performing some other gender-appropriate activity. Hearing the woman's voice rasp out her name sent a shiver up the younger girl's spine. It was a shiver that would never go away, Quinn muses. She still feels it whenever Santana calls her name. Pulling herself away from her memories as the streets fill with even more people, Quinn feels even more befuddled than she had earlier in the day.

* * *

She comes to the doorway of the master woodworker's shop without realizing it. It's only until her eyes are met with a dark brown pair that Quinn realizes where she is. Santana appears just as confused as Quinn feels about just about everything. "Quinn, mi amore, what are you doing here?" At least the brunette doesn't seem angry, Quinn thinks. She leans her head towards the tanned woman, expecting the near-bruising pressure of Santana's lips on hers. It's a few moments before Santana does move towards her and then she's surprised when a light brush of lips breezes over her cheek, at the corner of her lips.

"Are you feeling alright?" She isn't quite disappointed, per se – normally she'd be struggling for her own space by now – but something about this new, quieter Santana is unsettling.

"Of course my love, why would I not be?" She doesn't seem to be upset or anything, truly, perhaps just tired, and Quinn relaxes a little, placing a hand hesitantly over one of Santana's own. The brunette looks down at their hands and smiles, and it's one of those rare moments where Santana looks more like the sweet four-and-twenty years old woman that Quinn knows she can be.

"Mistress Quinn! Pleasure to see you, ma'am," says the Noelle, the master woodworker's daughter and apprentice. Quinn smiles and nods politely, noting the way that Noelle's grey-blue eyes flash with the acknowledgement. From beside her, Santana stiffens. Quinn feels a tightness around her hand. Surely Santana can't be jealous of the master woodworker's daughter? The girl is a beauty, yes, and well-mannered – she and her father are newer to the pirate lifestyle than Quinn is – but Quinn has never thought much more of Noelle than as a kind acquaintance.

"Miss Noelle, your father should have finished with the figurehead for my ship by now. I have been waiting for near to an hour. Go and check on him; I haven't all day to be idling outside of this shop." Noelle bows out quickly.

"You needn't have been quite so rude with the poor girl, dearest," Quinn scolds gently. Santana's odd mood is honestly beginning to worry her. "You're so well-respected here, nobody would dare disappoint you. You needn't be so harsh with them."

"I know," Santana says and Quinn is about to reply when she continues, "I also know that about your relationship with Marlye Rose, Quinn." _Well blow me down._

"I…," Quinn isn't quite sure how to continue. She watches as Santana, _La Diabla_ herself, waits, eyeing her patiently. She does not scream or huff with edginess. She waits. "I will not deny that we had… the beginnings of a romantic relationship building in the weeks before the mutiny—

"I am also aware of the person you really are, Quinn Diggory. Or should I say Lucille Fabray?" Quinn pulls back from Santana as if she's been stung, but it's the brunette's dark eyes that appear hurt.

"It was never my intention to keep my lineage from you Santana…" Quinn flinches as the shield behind Santana's eyes comes up. She rubs circles on the back of Santana's hands until the other woman pulls away. To say that she's upset right now would be an understatement. Quinn sighs.

"Lady Santana, your ship's new figurehead," Noelle's soft tones interrupt the gloomy feel settling around Quinn's shoulders. Santana chucks a small purse of gold onto the counter, not even bothering to inspect the sizable wooden piece. Quinn's eyes catch a glimpse of warm gold and peach tones, but not much else as the rest of the figurehead – a modestly sized carving, manageably light by the looks of it – is covered by the customary woodworker's cloth. The master woodworker steps out, smock smeared with paint and sawdust.

"I hope you'll find it to your liking, Lady Santana." The master woodworker has a kind voice and even kinder eyes, a darker grey than his daughter's. Santana smiles appreciatively even though she's not seen the whole figurehead. "It was longer than I expected, getting the colour just so." His eyes come to rest on Quinn's own for a second, and she swears that Santana frowns slightly. The man's gaze returns to Santana. "I am hopeful that my paints did the subject justice." Santana quickly peeks underneath the cloth and practically shivers with pleasure.

"I'm sure that it will look absolutely perfect at the prow of the _Lovelia; _you have a gift, sir." She nods swiftly and thanks the man and his daughter before stepping out of the shop. Santana's arms wrap protectively around the wood, but her gaze directs Quinn to follow her. One of Santana's favourite mares, Evia, is waiting a few blocks away from the city limits, a small cart harnessed to her. Santana gently puts the figurehead down amongst small amounts of food and other supplies. She gestures towards the saddle and Quinn climbs up gracefully, sliding closer to Evia's well-muscled neck as Santana pulls herself up. Wrapping one arm around Quinn Santana clicks her teeth, setting the dappled grey mare off at a canter towards the port.

"My love, please speak to me." Santana's arm braces against Quinn's stomach and Quinn can practically feel soft, shuddering gasps. Knowing that it is a risk to flirt with Santana's anger, Quinn strokes the arm surrounding her softly, comfortingly. "I love you." The woman behind her does not pull away, though Quinn suspects that has more to do with their current position than anything else.

"Perhaps you do, but perhaps you do not. I have told you time and time again in the past that I love you, but you have yet to prove that you truly love me. Was it not I who saved you from the streets? Was it not I who made it possible for you to gain entry aboard the _Poverina_; who worked with you night and day to make sure that you would be able to protect yourself when I could not be there? I did this all and more for you, Quinn, only to find that you were not only unfaithful, but that you hid your identity from me. _From me! _I who has always tried to keep you safe! Did you not think that I would take care of you? That I would cast you away?" Quinn doesn't trust herself not to turn back. She rarely hears Santana speak so much, and with so much emotion.

"How could I have been sure you would not have done just that?" Quinn feels the words she's about to say before she says them, but her teeth cannot stop them. "The Empire sees you as a monster, Santana; something like this would mean little to you. How could I have known?"

"Because I am _not_ the monster that the Empire believes me to be, Quinn, and I thought that you of all people would know that!"

"If that's true than _why_ are you so angered? What has changed? I am not so ungrateful that I would forget all that you have done for me. Marley Rose may have sparked my interest, but it is only you for whom my heart quickens." The words are true. She knows it as soon as they fly from her lips, almost lost in the rush of wind as they draw nearer to port.

"If that is true, I will be most delighted. I've taken her on as my ship master's mate; many of the _Poverina's_ crew members serve me now. And with you there as my first mate and quartermaster… I shall not be pleased to find that I have willingly allowed my lover's lover aboard my ship." Santana's raspy voice is almost carried away as the noises of the port begin to drill Quinn's eardrums down. This does nothing to downplay the dangerous tilt in it.

"She is not my lover anymore than she is yours," Quinn says earnestly. Santana manages a shaking laugh and Evia slows as they come up alongside the pier. The _Lovelia_'s polished cedar masts gleam in the sunlight and as always, Quinn is taken by surprise with how much adoration Santana pours into her ship. Of all the schooners, sloops, and brigantines Santana has ever captained, Quinn can tell that the _Lovelia_ is her lover's favourite. Santana's breathing is even now, perhaps even a little quickened as she takes in the sight of her ship; workers and sailors busy themselves with cargo and mops and the like. She practically throws herself from Evia's saddle, stopping as an afterthought to help Quinn down. The Puckerman brothers accost them at the gangplank, asking if there is anything they can do. Santana motions toward Evia and the cart. Quinn follows a few steps behind Santana, a respectful distance between herself and the captain.

"I will not inform the crew of your true heritage. They have a right to know with whom they are sharing their ship, but I know that you mean them no harm." Quinn falters for a few steps. Santana has just gifted her her privacy, and her freedom from scrutiny aboard the _Lovelia._

"I thank you. Truly, I love you Santana," Quinn whispers. The brunette stiffens slightly.

"I trust that among your fellow sailors you will address me solely as Captain Lopez, first-mate Fabray," Santana says over her shoulder. Quinn makes an affirmative noise and drops her pace so that she is walking even farther behind her proud, injured lover. They will not speak again until the first morning of the raid._  
_

* * *

She knows that it was a poor choice, spending that much time at the inn's bar. Without Santana's presence, she's floundering. Odd, she'd been praying for some time to herself since her relationship with _La Diabla_ began. "Quinn, I daresay that you have been avoiding me." The evening before the _Lovelia _is to set sail Quinn sees Marley again for the first time in almost a month.

"I've not been doing any such thing, I can assure you." She hasn't been, not really, but Santana is still not speaking to her at all and Quinn is trying her damnedest to attract the captain's attention.

"Yes, you have been. Does it have anything at all to do with your lover's quarrel with the captain?" Marley's blue eyes look sad, sadder than Quinn can ever remember them being aboard the _Poverina_. She feels a sharp pang in her chest; she is _not_ in love with Marley, she loves Santana. She's just… intrigued by the other woman's warmth.

"There is nothing going on between myself and the captain, ship master's mate Rose."

"Quinn, I beg of you! At the very least I—I thought that we were friends. When we came to collect you from the ship after…the mutiny… well, you were all over each other. Now she seems loathe to be anywhere near you."

"You seem to be chasing spectral images in your head, Marley," Quinn says. She doesn't know why she's trying so desperately to hide her relationship with Santana from Marley. The blue-eyed woman already knows. She saw it with her own eyes.

"No, Quinn, I'm not… yet even if I were—

"Marley, enough."

"Quinn… come with me." She follows the tall brunette, unsure of where this will lead. It's dark, though Quinn can tell that they're leaving the inn and walking out to the pier. They come to stand directly before the prow of the _Lovelia_ and Quinn feels lost until Marley's voice directs her attention to the figurehead. It's beautifully wrought, a mermaid, as Quinn can see. The warm gold and peach tones are the mermaid's skin and long, chest-covering hair. It's the eyes that strike her though. They're a particular shade of hazel-green. A highly familiar colour. "You may tell me that there is nothing to your relationship, but it is clear. Captain Lopez is in love with you, Quinn... do you feel the same for her?"

"Yes." Quinn doesn't know why Marley's hurt expression bothers her, or why the other woman is so interested in this part of her life. "Now if you'll excuse me, I should be in my room. We sail at noon tomorrow, Miss Rose."

* * *

**Please don't hurt me, sorry if this was not as good as the pilot (or at all). I edited and re-edited this chapter over and over and over but it feels a little off to me. Meh. We can not always be perfect.**

**In happier news I've got the ending for this story all planned out and I think it will be an interesting ride from here on out. As always, look forward to hearing from you! Much love :)**

**~ Kay ~**


	3. The Lovelia, Continued

**So hi again, wow this comes a lot sooner than last time! I started working on this directly after uploading the second chapter because I just love how vocal you guys are and you deserve more from me as a result. Also, changed the rating to T because I figured that I won't be writing anything graphic. Too much effort. Just a heads up, this chapter does a fair bit of time-skipping (a few weeks, and then a throw-away line covering the winter season). You'll see why, I hope.**

**Disclaimer: My initials are not RM, IB, or BF, and I do not own any of the characters mentioned (that you recognize, at least. Noelle is mine and yes she'll be popping up a bit more).**

* * *

Come October, Quinn is becoming a better sailor and pirate in general. Being aboard the _Lovelia_ is not as pleasant as Quinn had hoped it could be, but it is, in many ways, much more enjoyable than her first three years serving on a pirate's ship. The _Lovelia _was once a naval ship – captained by a woman who Quinn is becoming convinced has (or at least had) ties to the navy – and as a result is much cleaner and well-organized than most all other ships sailing under Queen Sue's banner. There are separate cabins for mess and for food storage, as well as captain's quarters. The rest of the sailors have to make do with a fairly cramped space, but the lack of rats aboard the _Lovelia_ makes everything that much easier to bear. Quinn has heard of the pirates having magic-women to bless their ships with cold rooms for food storage, and protection against disease and pests; perhaps that is the case with the _Lovelia_?

She's kept busy for the most part and so can't dwell on any of this, though after the first few raids she's settled down and her duties seem more relaxed. Well, as relaxed as a first-mate-and-quartermaster's duties can be. It isn't often that Quinn is met with a challenge, and she relishes the added duties that a quartermaster has. She's essentially running the _Lovelia_'s day-to-day routine, though Santana, being more hands-on than the majority of pirate captains (or captains in generally), always seems to be around when it would appear that the blonde is having difficulty. The woman's presence is comforting, but never more than professionally amicable; needless to say it confuses Quinn to no end.

She is aware that her hesitantly-ready admission of her budding relationship with Marley may have spurned her lover into a dour mood, but surely the time is coming wherein they can return to some level of normalcy? It strikes Quinn as odd, her relationship with Santana. In the beginning she'd wished for more space, for more air to breathe on her own. Now it's as if she means nothing to the other woman, and Quinn is infuriated. It is certainly peculiar, the tension between them, and she is sure that Rachel and some of the more astute members of Santana's crew are beginning to catch on. Things as "subtly" done as leaving the pair to themselves during meal times and after raids are becoming commonplace, and though Quinn is thankful for the attempted interventions she worries that Santana will think she has put her fellow sailors up to task. That would not look professional or appropriate at all.

* * *

She's looking over the supplies they've just recovered from an old merchant's sloop; their fourth successful raid since the beginning of the month, sixth if she were to count the first two back in September. "Quinn, captain wants to speak with you, when you have the time," Finn's voice is light, almost confused. The poor man must have been checking over the sails when Santana asked him to find her. Still, he doesn't seem frightened or in any way impatient. She takes it as a sign that Santana is not angry with her. Yet.

"Alright, thank you bosun's-mate Hudson," she says. Finn flusters at the use of his proper title. The colour spreads all throughout his face and neck and Quinn feels sorry for the poor man as realization comes over him. Glancing over both his shoulders the man leans a little closer to her and practically whispers.

"I'm sorry first-mate Diggory, I'd forgotten," he says. She shakes her head; she isn't angry that he'd not used her title – though technically if he were to use one it would be _quartermaster_ and not _first-mate_. Santana is much more rigid than most other pirates, always referring to each of her crew members by their full title and family name. To be honest it reminds Quinn a little of her father's treatment of the crew of the _Excelsior_, though to be fair Santana is nowhere near as cold and demanding. "And where would Captain Lopez be right now?"

"Should be at work in her quarters by now, ma'am," he says and nods respectfully. Quinn sighs as he leaves the cargo hold; they'd been fairly close aboard the _Poverina_, but not so much so now. It puzzles her; bosun's mate is a fairly high-ranking position, especially because of Santana's penchant for assigning the mates aboard her ship to specific tasks as opposed to the catch-all type of work that Quinn has noticed aboard other sloops. This would mean that Finn enjoys a fair amount of prestige amongst the crew and so should not be so cowed by her position. She decides that she'll speak to Rachel about it; _she_ at least has maintained their friendship admirably. Noting down the number of oranges they've manage to acquire – a lucky find, by anyone's standard – Quinn rises and pats down her tunic. Exiting from the cargo hold and up onto the deck, she runs a hand through her hair. It still surprises her when, after a mere few seconds, her fingers are free of the silken locks. She cut it after nearly being killed when a merchant guard caught hold of her longer mane a few raids back. She remembers how she'd whipped her cutlass over her head, startling the man, before slashing upwards, severing both the excess length from her hair and the man's fingers from his hand. She hadn't felt any nausea at the sight of red staining the gold of her hair.

Santana evened it out for her with her finest dagger afterwards, one of the only tender moments they'd had since before the whole Marley incident. True to her word the captain has been a true professional, though sometimes in the heat of battle Quinn is sure she can feel the Santana's familiar gaze rest steadily on her, anxious to see Quinn return to the _Lovelia_ safely. Smiling, Quinn quickly teases her fingertips through her hair one last time as her feet carry her towards the captain's quarters. She isn't quite sure why she's so nervous; it isn't like as if she doesn't sleep in Santana's quarters every night – on a cot separate from the captain's. She brings her closed fist up to rap on the door twice, then once, then twice again. It's her personal knock. "You may enter." The only thing keeping Quinn from trembling too much as she steps inside and shuts the door is the lack of anger in Santana's voice.

"Bosun's-mate Hudson told me that you wished to speak to me?" Quinn knows that Santana has been busy lately, guiding Marley through her new post as ship's master. The _Lovelia's _previous ship's master was killed during the first raid, but it's only now that Santana has deemed the taller brunette competent enough to take up old man Tanaka's work. In a way, Santana is working towards Quinn's future well-being, Quinn thinks; it was made clear by Queen Sue that the _Proditor_'s main crew would consist of former crew-members of the _Poverina_. Marley will be working under her command as soon as her ship is ready to sail. "Is there something you would like to know, Captain Lopez?"

"Yes," Santana doesn't even lift her gaze from the rolls of parchment on her writing table. "How are our supplies looking, quartermaster Diggory?"

Quinn briefly marvels at how easily her false name slips out of Santana's mouth before she says, "We've enough to last through now 'til December, if we were to be stingy with food. With current portions remaining as they are aboard, we'll need to return to Suemaria until mid-November, at the very latest."

"And how is the ship looking? We've not careened her in a while," Santana says. It's almost enraging how she still hasn't looked in Quinn's direction, but Quinn is resolute in her desire not to aggravate _La Diabla_. Still, it isn't part of her responsibilities to look after the physical state of the ship; she isn't the _Lovelia's _bosun. Luckily, Santana seems to realize that her hesitation is not due to insubordination. "Apologies, this is not your domain of expertise." Quinn nods her head respectfully, not that Santana pays her any mind. "How is the situation between gunner Puckerman, not master gunner Puckerman mind you but his brother, and ship's master Rose?" This is news to Quinn. She wasn't made aware of any problems between the two, and as she is the quartermaster it is the duty of every able sailor to report any disputes directly to her.

"This is the first I'm hearing of any situation between them, captain. May I inquire as to what it is you mean? Was there an altercation?" It's only now that Santana lifts her eyes from the parchment; maps and prints of naval ships, Quinn can see. There's almost a bitter edge to the other woman's dark eyes but it's blunted by something akin to dry humour and it throws the blonde off guard.

"Don't sound quite so apprehensive, quartermaster Diggory. Ship's master Rose is safe," says the captain. An unusual look alights on Santana's face each time she mentions Marley to Quinn in some capacity, but this time is different. The blonde can't quite place it.

"Ah." Quinn doesn't know what else she could possibly say. She just waits for the brunette –her lover still? – to speak.

"It would appear that the young Puckerman is quite enraptured by our lovely Rose," Santana says, breaking from protocol by dropping her crew's proper titles. Quinn notes a look of disdain spread from Santana's features; at the mention of the Puckerman boy, not of Marley. Against her better judgement, Quinn decides to point this out, thankful that she seems to have the Santana's attention now.

"Captain… you seem to be discontented with the young gunner. May I ask as to why?" Quinn isn't sure that Santana will answer the question; after a few moments of silence it doesn't appear that way. She's quick to apologize. "My apologies, captain, I did not mean to overstep my boundaries."

"No, quartermaster, you needn't apologize. It is one of your many duties, after all, to intervene on the behalf of crew members who find themselves in…disagreement," Santana says. Quinn is about to thank her – for what she isn't actually sure – but the other woman continues, her voice growing soft and, were it not Santana speaking, almost bashful. "Besides, as captain's sweetheart you should know, surely, that nothing you ask of me is subject to such petty things as boundaries."

"I…," Quinn senses something shifting as she wrestles the words from her thoughts, the power of it akin to what she feels before a battle. Exhilaration? There's a certain thrill thrumming through her core as she holds on to what Santana has just said. _Captain's sweetheart…captain's sweetheart_. "I had become certain that you no longer—

"Silly woman," Santana says gently, and though everything is fundamentally different between them Quinn can't help the comparison of Santana to her father as it flashes up behind her eyes. Bizarre. "My mannerisms concerning you aboard this ship must be no different from those I exhibit around all of my crew. It does not mean that I think any less of you than I did before, my Quinn." Quinn hasn't noticed how close Santana has become, how little space there is between them. The moment is gone as quickly as it appeared though, and the brunette backs away, leaving the ghost of her touch burning through the blonde like fever. "In response to your question however, my problems with gunner Puckerman are not at issue right now. I would suggest that you speak to ship's master Rose at your earliest convenience." There it is again, that unusual facial expression, but Quinn is too preoccupied with other thoughts to muse on that right now.

"I will do just so, captain," Quinn says, unable to stop the tremulous quiver in her voice. They had been so close mere seconds ago. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, quartermaster Diggory, that will be all for now," Santana says, standing in front of her writing table, arms held behind her back. Aside from the blood-red hue of her vest and the chaotic, mismatched (though stunning) aura about her entire person, Santana looks every bit the part of the confident young naval captain that Quinn is sure her father would love to work with. It's almost unfair that the she can't have both her father's respect and Santana's love, and the unfairness of it all isn't helping her sort out her thoughts any better. Perhaps that is why, without thinking, Quinn takes two steps forward and brings her lips down slightly to meet with Santana's. It is a moment both familiar and yet alien, something which Quinn is sure has never before crossed her mind while in an embrace with Santana. When hands begin to roam away from belt-heavy hips and her breathing begins to catch in the back of her throat, Quinn pauses. She backs away slowly, careful to keep her eyes on the smaller woman.

"I thank you for your time and go to do as you wish, Captain Lopez," Quinn says with a dramatic, sweeping bow. Her goofiness both surprises and scares her; it would not do to anger her captain, and this could seem almost taunting. She turns and leaves, only to cast one more glance over her shoulder. Santana's lips are still parted suggestively and it takes all of Quinn's strength to walk away. Almost a month without their regular intimacy and now this; Quinn is practically intoxicated on the taste of Santana's breath.

* * *

It isn't until after their next raid at the end of the month, during a rest in the port town of Beckson, when Quinn is able to speak with Marley about the latter's problems with the younger Puckerman. It's not that she hasn't been trying; Lord above she's been trying, but it seems that weeks of avoiding contact with the blue-eyed woman has made it all the more difficult to find her on her off time. It really shouldn't be such a tough job, Quinn notes when she finally does catch a glimpse of familiar long brown hair. After all, as ship's master Marley's hours are regulated by daylight and Santana's directions. Quinn eventually finds Marley in a small inn's mess hall, eating alone. She slides into the bench across from the eating woman and speaks before Marley can make any sort of movement, "You did not think it necessary to speak with me about gunner Puckerman, why?"

Marley chews slowly, dragging out the process in search of words to say as Quinn's gaze flickers from her spoon to the stew in her bowl and back to her eyes. "It has been dealt with, quartermaster Diggory."

"By whom? Far as I am aware it is the quartermaster's duty to resolve disputes amongst crew members," Quinn says. She catches Marley's blue eyes and holds her gaze, wanting complete honesty from the woman. _Gods_. She's in _love_ with Santana, there can be no question of it, and she could have sworn mere seconds ago from prow to stern of all of the pirate queen's ships that she is free from her affections concerning Marley. So what is this feeling? She wonders briefly if Marley is doing this on purpose, but she cannot pinpoint a _this_ and her suspicions die away.

"The captain saw to it that gunner Puckerman knows to leave me be," Marley says. She continues, answering Quinn's next question prematurely. "He's been making advances on me since the raids began, and I've turned him away numerous times. Gunner Puckerman is quite persistent, a fine quality in a gunner, don't you think," she jokes, though Quinn can feel a lump in her throat. _It's not because I'm in love with her_, Quinn thinks. It's perfectly logical that she'd be a little upset at this news. She and Marley are friends, and the Puckerman brothers don't exactly have a pristine reputation with regards to their relations with women. Perfectly logical, platonic concern is all that this is. Quinn takes a breath and the lump has left her throat. She rises slowly, careful not to disturb the table as she does. The sound of footfalls draws nearer and nearer.

"Well then I'm glad it was taken care of; sorry to take up your meal time, ship's master Rose."

"Not a problem at all, quartermaster Fabray," Marley says half-heartedly. Quinn tenses and Marley's eyes widen almost comically, nearly bursting free from her head as she recognizes the figure behind Quinn. The blonde turns and is face to face with Captain Santana.

"Ship's master Rose, were I you I would be most careful in whom you use that name around." Santana's voice is calm, but not the way it is when she'd spoken to Quinn earlier. It is a more measured calm, designed with the intent of betraying no outward emotions.

"O-of course, captain. Many apologies," Marley says, rising awkwardly as she speaks. Quinn recognizes this behaviour; she'd been taught to stand when speaking to superior officer. Her father had made sure that his daughters were all well-trained in proper naval-etiquette in addition to the social expectations for young women of their status.

"Apologize not to me, but to quartermaster _Diggory_," Santana says, focusing on Quinn's chosen surname. Marley shifts under the tanned woman's gaze; it is not a harsh look so much as one of serious reprimand. Quinn waits, relaxing slightly when Santana's arm snakes around her waist. _Wait. _Santana's arm should not be around her waist. Santana herself said that they cannot act this way in front of the rest of the crew, and Marley is a member of the crew. Quinn's mind races with the implications of what could possibly be happening and as this is taking place something in Marley changes. She stands tall, almost proudly, and peers at Santana with thinly veiled derision.

"I apologize for any discomfort you may have felt as a result of my carelessness, quartermaster Diggory," Marley says, though her eyes are still on Santana's. The captain stiffens and her grip on Quinn tightens possessively. Quinn almost winces at the firm grip; it isn't that Santana is bruising her or anything, but the additional pressure is driving the buckles on her belt

"It isn't at all a problem, honestly, though your apologies are accepted ship's master Rose," she replies. Just like that the tension seems to disappear from the mess hall. Marley is slowly sitting back down and Santana is giving Marley the "as-you-were" signal, half-dragging Quinn from the room. Despite the annoyance Quinn feels at such manhandling, she can't help the rush of blood to her cheeks. It's pathetic, but this is the most physical attention Santana has paid her since their kiss in the captain's quarters and Quinn has missed the feeling of Santana holding her. She's missed everything about Santana's touch she thinks, thankful as the older woman takes her hand and leads her to the _Lovelia._

"What is this about, captain?" Quinn asks, slightly confused. She doesn't get an answer until they're locked into the captain's cabin together and _oh_ that's what this is.

"Oh no mi amore, tonight I am simply Santana, not captain, and you are Quinn and I _love_ you."

Quinn grins, "Do you really, Santana?"

"Would you like to see how much I love you?"

* * *

"I received word from Queen Sue this morning," Santana says later on, lying with her body slightly covering Quinn's in that protective way Quinn adores. The last thing that Quinn wants to be talking about is Queen Sue, but Santana's soft whisper is almost urgent. At the very least she's carrying some important news. The blonde rolls over, thankful that Santana's cot is wide enough to accommodate the movement, and props her head up with her left hand.

"What could Queen Sue possibly have to tell us? We're nearing the end of raid season," Quinn remarks, her free hand coming up to Santana's shoulder to stroke the scarred skin – one of many reminders of the night they first met.

"Well that's exactly what this is about, my love. Come the first snowfall, you and I will be staying with Queen Sue, at the castle in Suemaria… assuming of course, that that is to your liking."

Quinn takes a moment to think about it. While the pirate queen is definitely not the kind of person she could spend long hours with, Santana definitely is, and the queen was kind enough to offer them a place to stay. Well, her, in any case; Santana has her choice of places where she can spend the bitter winter. "I think that that could potentially be pleasant?" Her voice flits upwards at the end. She's not so sure that that much time around Queen Sue will actually be pleasant, but she truthfully has no idea where she'll spend the winter otherwise, now that the Schuester clan refuses to so much as hear her name spoken aloud. And of course, she'll be with Santana.

"It could be… but that isn't the most important new I have for you," Santana says. "Queen Sue has told me that she wants to train you with your swordsmanship and that by season's end the _Proditor_ will be ready. You are to be the first to raid come spring."

"Truly?" Quinn is more excited that she should be at the thought of raiding on her own. She loves the _Lovelia_, it's true, but maybe when she's in command of her own ship she won't feel so ashamed at how much she loves the scent of blood and the battlefield.

"Yes," Santana kisses her jaw languidly, "But there was also some less pleasant news my dearest." Quinn grasps for Santana's hand and gently brings the calloused palm up to her lips.

"Tell me."

"Word of your true heritage has begun to spread across the kingdom. Queen Sue is trying to keep things under control but it's only a matter of time before the rest of the pirates know who you are," Santana's voice heaves with sadness, "I want to keep you safe, but I can't decide what would be best for you. Should I tell the crew with whom they have been working so closely for months now, or should I allow them to come across the truth themselves?"

"Whatever you decide," Quinn says, planting a kiss on Santana's lips, "I support your decision. You _are_ the captain after all." She feels less apprehensive than she'd expected she ever would be, but perhaps it is because of Santana's calming presence. How comical, she thinks, that a woman as hot-tempered as Santana could drain all the anger from her body.

* * *

They break the news on the last day of the raid season, the sign of first snow, and Quinn is pleasantly surprised when nobody makes much of an issue out of it. She's a little confused as to why Santana is insisting on having a final address – it's just such a _naval _tradition – but all's well that ends well, she supposes. Granted, Quinn thinks, these are all either Santana's people or hers, so there was never much danger for her aboard the _Lovelia_. Before everybody goes their separate ways Santana makes one finally announcement. "As I am sure most of you have already surmised, Quinn here," Santana winks, now the carefree woman of five-and-twenty that she is during off-season as opposed to the strict young captain, "is captain's sweetheart. She will be sorely missed, along with all you who will be following her aboard the _Proditor _come spring." A raucous cheer sounds throughout the crew and Quinn's eyes scan the crowd of friendly faces. She finds Marley who is, unsurprisingly, not pleased. Quinn doesn't think it has anything to do with Santana's words however, for the brunette's blue eyes are almost hateful, and while they may have had a connection Quinn does not fool herself; Marley is not angry that she loves another. There is something else underlying all of this. "Well that is all. To my crew, I shall see you when the ice has thawed. To the crew of the _Proditor, _you're in the best of hands." Santana finishes the final address and with a wave of her hands, sends everybody off.

Quinn finds Rachel and Finn amongst the milling bodies all around her, speaking with Marley. They stop when she approaches and Marley looks away. "I'll be seeing you aboard the _Proditor_ in the spring, right?" She's anxious to be apart from Rachel for so many months, but she knows that the tiny brunette is excited to be meeting Finn's family. Rachel practically squeals.

"Of course, Captain Fabray!" she says. "Oh… I mean, Captain Diggory?" Quinn laughs.

"Fabray will be fine, though I'm not sure that you need to use the title, Rachel."

"Oh Quinn, you'd best prepare yourself for it," Rachel says sweetly, kissing her friend's cheek once and laughing herself off the ship.

"You'll make a fine captain, Quinn, one I'll gladly serve," Finn says nicely. He pats her on the shoulder, following after Rachel with a dopey smile on his face. Quinn smiles and waves after her friends before turning to Marley.

"I'll be seeing you, Miss Rose," she says coolly, unsure where they stand after Santana and Marley's little face-off.

"Be seeing you, Captain Fabray," Marley says. It's simple, the tone of the brunette's voice, but Quinn is unsettled. _Captain_ _Fabray_. The words sound at home on the brunette's lips.

The thought plagues her throughout the winter, even while Santana exerts every effort to bring Quinn happiness.

* * *

**So now... lots of questions? Yeah. S'okay. **

**Some things to think about:**

**Why does Santana remind Quinn of her father or, in other words, why does Santana operate like a navy officer?**

**What will Quinn be like as a captain?**

**Why is it that every little thing about Marley is starting to make Quinn suspicious?**

**SO MANY QUESTIONS OMFG WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?**

**Oh and just to clarify, yes darlings this will be a Quinntana. I'm listening to you, see?**

**Okay, I'll leave you now, just know that you bring me joy, whether you're an FF user or a guest. (THANKS to all who reviewed last chapter, but dear guests, I JUST WISH I could send you private "Thank you" messages. Some of you were really helpful!) **


	4. The Robin

**My apologies! I didn't realize how long it's been until yesterday, but then I got caught up watching Yuru Yuri (both seasons) and so I didn't manage to upload and edit. Also, thank you so much to each and every one of you who follows, favourites, reviews, or even just reads this story! Heads up that there is a flashback involved and mostly just filler/backstory, but it's something and it's necessary, I promise! More after the break, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee characters, obvi, but the plot is mine!**

* * *

Queen Sue eventually opens her castle doors to Quinn and Santana on the first day of December. Their first night living in the castle – "Made this castle outter' the bones of me first ship, the Robin." Queen Sue proudly tells them as their heads spin – something strange happens. "We used to live in the same city," Santana says. Quinn shivers. It's cold; it's usually cold, what with the snow and season, but Quinn has never felt it until now. Maybe it's the way that Santana's voice catches, but it makes the blonde feel uneasy.

"We've lived in the same city for four years now, San," Quinn says softly. She feels Santana's chest rise and fall quickly with small chuckles.

"Aye, that we have my love," she says. She doesn't continue with her original thoughts, and that just piles on top of whatever else Quinn is thinking about. She knows Santana well enough to know when the brunette is hiding something from her.

The next morning everything has returned to its normal easiness, and Quinn tries her best to forget the strange words. They dine with Queen Sue, seated at her sides like children seated before a parent, and the delight on Santana's face as a bowl of warm, honey drizzled porridge is placed before her is positively adorable, Quinn thinks. "Now, now, Lopez, could ye, at the very least, try not ter look like such a ragamuffin at the sight of food? Ye can't have been starving aboard yer ship." Leave it to Queen Sue to taint such a sweet moment.

Santana scowls lightly, "Of course not, Queen Sue. Quinn here saw to it that food was readily available aboard the _Lovelia_."

"Aye, she did? Glad ter hear it," the pirate queen's voice just _drips_ with 'enthusiasm'. "I suppose ye are already aware, Quinn, but ye'll have to be finding a first mate. And I don't mean to be brash child, but ye can't expect that yer musician friend will be able to fill the slot. From what I've heard, she'd make a fine ship's master, with her sense of direction, but as for a first mate… Ye need a much more able sailor. Somebody from a pirating family line, perchance the Puckerman boy?"

Quinn mulls over her options. Gunner Puckerman is too young to have even been considered her master gunner; no way is she giving him that much power aboard her ship. Of course, Queen Sue has reason. Rachel would definitely be able to handle the quartermaster's responsibilities from a custodial standpoint, but she is altogether not right for the job. There are a number of men and women who would be qualified to handle the responsibilities of first mate and quartermaster, but Quinn is not close enough with any of them to justify choosing them.

"What of Finnegan Hudson, mi amore? He's a fair sailor, and a better man than most," Santana says, but it's with a certain air of reluctance with which Quinn finds herself unfamiliar. It was true that she'd rarely seen Santana and Finn together aboard the _Lovelia_, but she'd thought that that was due to them both being so busy and not because either of them dislike the other.

"That dog Schuester's first-mate? He's not the brightest lad…," Queen Sue pauses to sip from her muddy-looking mead. "He's not a bad sailor though, and yes, a better man than most. Ye'd be hard-pressed to find another pirate more trustworthy."

Quinn thinks that perhaps the other two women may be on to something, but she stops herself short of making an agreement. She's been in the position she's now trying to fill. She's felt the pressure, the hassle, and while she knows that Finn is a good man and a hard worker, she isn't sure that he'll be able to do all of the work alone. "I will make Finn my first mate… but I want to elect somebody else to oversee some of the duties of quartermaster."

Neither of the two women can disagree with her when she's finished explaining the logic behind her proposal. In time, perhaps Finn will be able to handle all of the duties of a first mate and quartermaster, she says, but for now he will definitely need assistance. The only question was this: who among the crew can work well with Finn?

The answer dawns on her at around the same time as it does Queen Sue and Santana. They say the name together, not reverently but with an expression of total clarity. "Marley Rose."

And besides, with Rachel moving up from her rank to take over the position of ship's master, Marley is due for a promotion. Still, the tension in Santana's face when she says the paler brunette's name sets Quinn in an uneasy state of mind.

* * *

They spend the next two weeks working closely with Queen Sue; attempting to plot out raid routes is a serious business, one that requires a taxing amount of energy from them each and every day. Quinn doesn't know how Santana can seem so at ease when she herself is practically wearing her brains down. The additional swordsmanship lessons she's been taking with Queen Sue definitely don't help her fatigue, and as a result her body is suffering as well.

In fairness, the woman is a great teacher, if only because her tactics force Quinn to be better in the hopes that she'll be able to avoid another cut or welt on a previously unmarred body part. With all of the organizing and plotting and thinking and training Quinn and Santana rarely speak to each other as two women in love; it's always matters of piracy. It isn't until the first day of the third week that the pirate queen senses their building frustration and allows them to breathe. She tells them that with the weather being so bad she can't even focus on how poorly they've plotted out the Empire's trade routes and sends them out of the room without so much as a thank you. Quinn isn't truly bothered by the terseness. Freedom of expression (freedom in general, really) is more important than politeness, she decides, wondering if her crew will feel the same way.

Suffice it to say that while Santana is the primary focus of Quinn's world during the winter months – at least, following the hard work that they'd been through – Marley still lingers in the background of Quinn's thoughts. She pushes it aside, blaming it on the fact that she'll need to spend a few days teaching Marley all about what needs to be done when the crew of the _Proditor_ is finally complete.

For her part, Santana is every bit the doting, loving woman that Quinn suspects she would have loved to be (or would still love to be) had circumstances been any different. It's a startling new side to the fiery brunette, one that Quinn both appreciates and questions. She's positively mystified by the new, sweeter Santana kindly massaging her sore limbs each evening (without being asked). The mere fact that even Santana's appearance seems to have softened since the beginning of their stay is cause for some serious reflection on Quinn's part.

To be honest with herself, she accepts that she has been intrigued by Santana ever since their first meeting eight years ago and even more so when they'd met again four years after that. It is a memory that Quinn chooses to forget on most days – for reasons of which she cannot ever be entirely certain – but one night as Santana's hand reaches out for hers, Quinn cannot help but bring it to mind.

* * *

She was cold, she was hungry, and she was pretty sure that she would be killed, robbed or molested if she spent one more minute on these mean streets. Quinn had never been away from home for so long a time and she was certain of three things. Firstly, that her parents would be furious – she assumed that they now realized that she was not returning home – and would be demanding the formation of search parties. Secondly, her sisters would be scared, but would hopefully understand. They'd seen the life that their parents were building up for Quinn, and knew how adamantly it was unwanted. Thirdly, she knew that she was completely and utterly ruined if her luck did not change tonight. She had gold to last her a week more, but that would be for naught if she stayed outside a moment longer.

The beginning of the New Year was not an ideal time to run from home, she knew, but it had been the best she could do. There was much to do about the house in preparation for the night's feast and nobody had been watching the slim, quiet girl as she slipped out, rucksack creating a misleading hunch across her cloaked back. She'd not wanted things to end up this way, but her parents were pressing her to marry; at nineteen she was now one of the oldest of the unmarried young women in their social circle, and not for lack of interest (on the part of her suitors of course, the likes of whom were numerous) either. Countless young men had practically pranced into the Fabray home, eager to win the hand of Russell Fabray's gorgeous eldest daughter (or to lay the groundwork for a courtship with one of her younger sisters). All of them had been politely yet viciously rebuffed and turned away practically the second that their spit-shined boots had touched the embroidered carpet.

Russell Fabray had even begun to ask around for some of the eligible women who may have held interest in his Lucille; it would have been more shameful for her to go unmarried _at all_, and with the right woman at her side nobody would care that she was one of _those_ women. Three of such women were on her father's mind, she knew. She'd heard her parents speaking about them, these particular suitors.

One was a young woman, a new lieutenant in her father's service a year younger than Quinn. Apparently she was beautiful and intelligent, a capable sailor, but Quinn had never met her and was loathe to trust the hearsay of her peers. It was strange that her father would be so enthusiastic about this suitor; as somebody younger, she had a lower standing than Quinn; the girl's father was a highborn though, a prince from one of the Empire's newer kingdoms, and this probably did wonders for her in the eyes of the ever-ambitious Admiral Fabray.

The other two women Russell had high hopes for were cousins, one ten years older than Quinn and the other, six-and-ten years older. They were wealthy and from families with strong political connections. Quinn _had_ met these two. Both were less attractive than her by a wide margin, in addition to being boring and peculiar in their own ways. The younger and much less attractive Loretta had a bright red face and a rotund figure. She enjoyed the feasts and the flutes of wine over the finery her father's money could afford. Her cousin, the older and slightly (ever-so-slightly) prettier Mirela, was a waifishly thin woman whose bones jutted out almost alarmingly from underneath the heavy embroidery of her gowns. No, Quinn could never bring herself to marry either one of them, though both of them treated her with great respect and admiration.

In her musings Quinn had lost her bearings and stumbled into an unfamiliar neighbourhood. She recognized the dilapidated buildings as part of the city's slums, and though it was a perhaps not more than a silly aristocrat's superstition Quinn felt the uneasiness settling itself on her heart. Her pace quickened, but soon she came to an alley the likes of which seemed to trap her in its darkness. Footsteps came to a stop behind her and the blonde froze, hood dropping as a gust of wind blew past her.

"You're not the type of lass to be wandered out here, are ye?" The voice was oddly familiar and lacked the proper respect due to a highborn daughter – almost to the point of condescension, as if this woman were a close family friend – and Quinn, full of nineteen year's worth of De Salle-Fabray pride, had turned haughtily even as her head told her that to do so would be unwise. "Brave lass." The owner of the voice seemed to appraise her slowly, and as a dawning realization lit up the other woman's dark eyes, Quinn nearly staggered back. _Santana._ The name had been inked behind her every action for the past four years and here she was, looking _so_ much more… more. There were no other words. Gone was the faint trace of malnourished limbs, replaced by healthy golden-brown skin and lean muscle, and all swathed in rich clothes, a deep green tunic the colour of that worn by the Admiral's men.

Upon noticing it Quinn swallowed sharply – she did not intend to be cornered by a man (woman, rather) of her father's employ. The peasant accent had caught her off-guard but there was no mistaking it. This woman was Navy and a sailor aboard the _Excelsior _if the golden shield and sword emblazoned on Santana's epaulets was any indication. "What do you mean speaking to me, ma'am?" Quinn started her address cautiously, not wanting to upset an agent of her father's. Perhaps, if she were kind, she could bargain with the woman; those in her father's employ were some of the best sailors and soldiers in the Empire, but honesty was not necessarily a trait shared amongst them unless the Admiral himself was involved. Quinn doubted that her father had actually cared enough to talk to every single search party in person.

"What do you mean running away from home, young Miss Lucille Quincy Fabray?" Of all the things that could have possibly angered the blonde, it was the way that Santana (for Quinn was sure that this was she) used her full name in such a tone; as if she were chastising a _child_. Quinn did not enjoy the idea of the other woman looking down on her as if she were a child.

"You would do well not to speak down to me, Santana, as you are only two years my senior and my father is your superior officer. And besides, I don't answer to Lucille anymore." The bits of gold leaf and silver on Santana's jacket made a tinkling sound as the woman's shoulders bounced with laughter. Quinn did not speak again, curious as to where her temper would get her.

"Oh? But is that not the name you supplied me that long time ago? I see you have not forgotten mine, and you can be sure that I hadn't done so yours. I never did thank you, did I?" Quinn shook her head. She had put Santana into her own bed before making a makeshift mattress on the settee her mother had insisted remain in her room "when she wanted to sew as a means of leisure". Come the morning she'd woken up in her own bed, no trace of the injured woman from the night before and no indication that the past night's events had ever taken place. It had been a puzzling affair, really, as Quinn could not even remember being lifted from the settee. According to her mother, she had been there from the moment her parents returned home, and so Quinn knew that Santana had barely rested. She had spent ages worried that the brunette had rushed out into the night and perished. "It was awfully rude of me, did I really not thank you at all?"

"No… though given your condition I suppose it was perfectly understandable that basic etiquette was not at the forefront of your mind." Quinn didn't understand why the warm, raspy tones of the other woman's laugh pleased her so much.

"You're quite right, Miss Fabray," Santana said. Quinn raised her eyes to the other woman's dark brown pair. She was looking at the slightly taller blonde woman with a curious expression; Quinn assumed at this point that the other woman was not about to return her to her father's house. "Now then, Miss Fabray I humbly thank you for the aid you bestowed upon me in my hour of need. Your actions on that night four years ago undoubtedly saved my life, and I will be forever grateful to you." The darker woman bowed deeply, leaving the blonde to blush a fierce red, darkened by the cold. She had never before received such a formal apology. "If I'm right, you're probably starving, cold, and not eager to return home any time soon. Shall I begin to repay my debt, milady?"

Santana offered Quinn her hand and the then-nineteen-year old reached out to grasp it, not knowing why her trust had been so easily won. It was an action that she would repeat almost each and every day over the course of the next four years, even on the rare occasions when Santana was not within her reach.

* * *

"You know dearest, I've not seen you so distracted since we began to plan the mutiny aboard the _Poverina_." Santana's hands are cooler now, one of them startlingly cold against the warmth of Quinn's neck. The blonde turns toward her lover slowly, eyes blinking her back into reality. Santana's gaze is warm and sweet, attentive as always, and Quinn leans forward until their lips touch. Gently, she cups the other woman's face in her hands as their lips engage in the familiar push-and-pull. When she pulls away, reluctantly and mostly due to fatigue, her hands do not leave the sides of Santana's face.

"My apologies, my love, I was simply captive in my own thoughts."

"What thoughts could possibly keep your attention captive from me?" Santana isn't being arrogant; it's obvious that Quinn can be distracted from Santana only by the most powerful of thoughts, emotions, and such. She briefly wonders when she'd become such an emotional woman.

"The night you saved me… when you appeared in that alleyway dressed in your Navy finery, for the entire world a loyal woman in my father's service, I'd thought that you would escort me home, against my will if necessary. But that was far from the case, was it not?" Quinn doesn't really want to get into a discussion right now; sleep is slowly clawing at her bones. Sensing this, Santana's reply is short, with the promise of a discussion at a later date.

"Yes, that was far from the case… and I suppose I have kept you unaware of why that is for quite long enough. Not tonight, though, my dearest. Tonight you must rest. We will speak of this matter when time permits us to dwell upon it, and no sooner than that."

* * *

They don't manage to continue that night's conversation for quite a while, as the winter begins to draw to a close. It's mid-January, and Quinn is training with Queen Sue when the opportunity presents itself. Of course, even the best-laid plans may run awry, what chance would a simple, spontaneous conversation stand?

Santana is sitting a short ways off, watching intently as her lover and her "sovereign" engage in a fierce duel. Quinn suppresses the urge to act in a flashy manner for Santana's benefit; not only would that increase the likelihood of her losing before the match had even truly begun, but Santana would scoff at her efforts and dismiss them as childish and beneath Quinn, a highborn and now captain of her own ship.

"Eyes on your opponent, _always_, Fabray. Don't be forgetting all that I've taught ye!" Queen Sue raises her arm until the practice sword's sharpened wood (so as to possibly leave a splinter in a wounded opponent's arm) is parallel to the ground. Quinn is lucky today; the Queen waits for her to return to her preferred duelling stance, signifying that they will be starting over, as if Quinn hadn't been about to taste defeat yet again. The morning's cold is welcome on the younger blonde's sweat-addled skin.

"Of course. My apologie—

"_Don't _apologize! Fight! Have I taught ye nothing, Fabray?" The taller blonde's strokes rain down fiercely, and Quinn swears that the wood in her grip is about to crack from the pressure. Just a few more hits like this and Quinn is in for a world of pain and splinter-ridden cuts. In a quick pivot away from Queen Sue's rampage Quinn catches Santana's eyes, and the other woman's normally calm exterior is slightly melted away. Santana's perfect mouth forms a rounded "o" shape and Quinn swears that she can hear a concerned gasp escape from it.

She practically falls to the ground, misjudging the force of her right foot's swing, but the floor comes up solidly underneath her instead. Quinn steps back, breath heaving in her throat as the pirate queen pauses to recollect her own breaths. Not wanting to waste the opportunity Quinn leaps forward, arm raised just a little too high. The strength of Queen Sue's blow to her wrist would normally be enough to break it, if not for Quinn twisting the sword's hilt outwards to meet the strike. Quinn doubles back before charging into the queen of the pirate kingdom shoulder first, but in her haste she charged at a poor angle to make much of an impact and the queen's sword hilt comes crashing down on the back of her head. There is only fire spreading throughout the abused area now, and blackness, followed by a scraping pain as the left side of her face slams down hard on the rough training-room floor.

"Quinn!"

"Ye'd best take care of her, Lopez. She be improving though, ye can tell'er that when e'er she's coming to."

* * *

Quinn does not wake for several hours, until the firelight has dimmed and the world is cool and quieter, calm and ready for a resting period. The first thing that Quinn notices is the infernal burning sensation covering a wide area of her scalp. The second thing she notices is the softness of the pillow beneath it, as well as a cool, sticky substance covering her face; the left side, at least. She knows better than to touch it though, but her hand itches to do so all the same. The third thing Quinn notices is the most pleasing, without question. Santana's body is pressed gently against her own, the older woman's form protectively close.

"Ah, you've regained control of your senses, love?" It's rhetoric, Santana's question. Quinn nods anyways, basking in the extra warmth that Santana's body is creating. "Queen Sue was worried when you did not rise for the half-sun mark. She believes that you have improved though, something I'm sure she no doubt attributes to her bizarre training methods."

"Why were you in the uniform of a naval officer? You've been a pirate all your life," Quinn isn't sure why she's asking this question at this very moment, but she's too late to stop herself.

"Quinn, my life… has been complicated. I've not been honest about this because, though you are my lover, our lives are exclusive of each other unless we both choose to share them…"

"Santana, calm down, I am not accusing you of anything at all."

Santana`s warm hand presses softly on Quinn`s cheek. "Yes, love, I know… but tell me, do you trust me to reveal everything to you in time?" Quinn watches as the tanned woman takes in a quick gasp of breath. Santana is never nervous; does she expect Quinn to be angry?

"I trust you." Quinn sighs happily as Santana's hand strokes her hair; something is still bothering her though. "Wait... you knew who I was, Santana, this whole time. Why then, did you make it seem as though my being Lucille Fabray was news to you?"

"When did I...ah, outside of the master carpenter's workshop? My love, I apologize for the confusion. I know that we've not been far from each other since I found you in the slums four years ago... but I suppose I had allowed myself to believe that you really were Quinn Diggory, a highborn pirate lass." It is not by any means the best of excuses, and Quinn knows that something else is wrong. Still, she has told Santana that she trusts her, and while their talk may have only opened a new world of questions, Quinn does not complain. She trusts her lover, and in time she will know the real truth.

They never do get the chance to speak again for the rest of the winter, as Queen Sue is intent on pushing Quinn to the very limits of her strength. The pirate queen seems uneasy, as though she wants Quinn to be ready.

* * *

Stepping aboard the _Proditor _for the first time since William Schuester's death, Quinn can't be sure, but she feels unease set through her as well.

"Captain? Queen Sue has just sent word of our first raid," Marley's soft voice is out of place on the ship, especially given the powerful position she now bears, but Quinn lets it pass and takes the bound parchment from the woman's outstretched hand. She skims the page briefly, the queen's rushed, angry scrawl bleeding against the rough parchment. Eyes rising to the sky, the blonde practically shudders with anticipation. This is no ordinary raid. Queen Sue has sent the captain and crew of the _Proditor _on an important _mission_ of sorts.

"Prepare to hunt."

* * *

**Aaaand... my apologies, again. It's bad, it's short, and even my ceaseless editing is not enough. Every story has weak moments, and I'm so sorry that this had to be it. I'll do better next time, promise, because next time we see... PLOT DEVELOPMENT! Also, I apologize in advance if the next chapter is a little late too... I'm now watching Otome wa Boku ni Koishiteru.**

**A note, yes, I know, I'm pretty much feels-blocking San and Quinn, but there is a REASON! And yes, I know, wtf does "Prepare to hunt" mean, amiright? Like, for fuck's sakes Quinn don't be so dramatic, ne? Hahaha, well you'll see why soon enough.**

**Another thing, who of you enjoys movies and reading movie reviews? If y'all are on Facebook, you should check out my friend's page, Ashley Moniz's Movie Reviews and LIKE that shiz. He posts his reviews in English & French! Oh, and to anybody interested in following me on Twitter, msg me with your handle and I'll follow you first ;)**

**As always, all my love and thanks for reading!**

**~ Kay ~**

**P.S. Just noticed I used a recurring theme in this chapter, kinda, sorta, anybody guess what it is? **


	5. La Putain

**So last time I didn't do too good a job of exciting or impressing any (or at least, not many) of you. Apologies. This chapter too, she is a bit rushed, but we're getting into the meatier, more plot-driven parts of the story, I assure you. See you after the break my dears, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I'm pirating (ha!) R.M. and co's characters and forcing them to play-act to my bidding. No ownership.**

* * *

"Tell me again, what _exactly_ our mission is. I want to be sure that you both are aware of what it is we are being asked to do," Quinn says. She's perched on her desk, facing her first mate and quartermaster, a sheaf of parchments splayed out on the mahogany surface beneath her. The pair have matching expressions on their faces; Quinn makes a note to reward them for staying so late with her to discuss her plans.

"We are to intercept the Navy vessel, _La Putain_, before she reaches the capital city. This should not be difficult, as we are on course to reach her within two days' time, and the winds blow in our favour," Marley says. Quinn nods and looks to Finn, who flusters slightly under her gaze, the top of his head brushing against the roof of the cabin.

"Our reports say that two of our people, namely the Navy-deserter Sandy of Ryerson and pirate lady Theresa Schuester, are being transported to the capital aboard _La Putain_. Once there, they are to be brought before the High Judge and Admiral Fabray in a court of law, where they will undoubtedly be found guilty of treason against the Empire and sentenced to death. Before their execution, Queen Susanna expects that they will be tortured for information, which both of them will eventually provide, giving the admiral an advantage over us and endangering the lives of every pirate living under Queen Susanna's reign." Finn's voice wavers slightly at the mention of Lady Schuester; he's never liked her much, a fearsome woman she is. Still, Quinn is fairly impressed with the amount of information he'd retained; Finn's memory has never been the best.

"Good. Miss Rose," Quinn pauses; she's not as stringent on titles as Santana is, but she does require a basic code of respect aboard the _Proditor_, "Please, what are we to do when we make contact with _La Putain_?"

"The instructions from her majesty Susanna are explicit in nature. She does not want Sandy of Ryerson and pirate lady Theresa Schuester to reach the capital alive. We have orders to end their lives, as the queen does not view either of them as assets to her kingdom. She does not care for the particulars but it is clear; we cannot allow _La Putain _to dock at the capital city so long as Sandy of Ryerson and pirate lady Theresa Schuester are alive."

It's a murder-mission, Quinn thinks, and she can't even say that she's disgusted at the possibility that she or one of her crew will be responsible for the deaths of two unarmed, pitiful excuses for pirates. If anything, it's almost… _gratifying_ that Queen Sue has bestowed such a mission upon her. "Very good. Now, have we decided on if we are going to board _La Putain_ or not?"

"With all due respect captain, I don't think that that would be such a good idea," Finn says. He's red as a beet and Quinn can't quite understand why; she may be his captain, but she is also his friend.

"Go on then, Finnegan, tell me your concerns," she says. Finn gulps, which seems to help his coloration slightly.

"Well I was just thinking… _La Putain _is one of the Navy's newer brigs, isn't she? That means she's not been in many dogfights, or seen much action at all except for doing basic checkpoint work… She'd be in perfect condition. I'm just…concerned that, as our sloop is a smaller ship, and one that's seen considerably more time in battle, should it come to broadsides we'd be in trouble."

He has a point. The _Proditor _is a single-masted sloop, smaller and more manoeuvrable than the enemy's double-masted brigantine but not at all as heavily armed. Even with Queen Sue's masterful repairmen having worked on the ship to toughen it up, they would be blasted to pieces if it came to cannons. Quinn is loathe to sacrifice her ship and her crew; not only has she grown fond of them, but without them she has no means of returning to Suemaria even if the mission is successful.

"Excellent point, Finn," she says softly. She notes the pleased grin on his face; he'll surely tell Rachel of the praise he received. "What would you two suggest? Personally, I think that the only other option we have is a silent ambush come nightfall, perhaps one sailor to board and another to watch, else no watch at all."

"That would definitely be the wisest decision, captain," Marley says. It's the first time aboard the ship where she hasn't sounded quieter than a church mouse, and Quinn can tell that there is more that the blue-eyed brunette has to say. She waves her hand in an encouraging gesture and waits. "The captain of _La Putain_ is said to be about the same age as you, captain, a little younger at two-and-twenty, like myself, and is apparently a highly skilled officer. Most reports say that before her promotion she was the first-mate aboard another ship, and had been so since the age of eighteen. No doubt we would face great difficulty if we were to engage her and her ship in open fire, with the kind of experience she's had."

"That's definitely odd. I'd only ever heard of my fa—of Admiral Fabray promoting promising young men and women up to _lieutenant_ before the age of five-and-twenty. The youngest captain in Admiral Fabray's service used to be Captain Alexei Bartel, who is currently four-and-thirty…"

"Yes… it would seem that the captain of _La Putain, _whose name Queen Susanna's spies could not seem to discover, is a special case," Finn says thoughtfully.

"In any case, we've heard strange things about this young woman," Marley continues, smiling softly at Finn. Quinn notes that since they began working together the two have become good friends, though Marley clearly questions the decision to make Finn the ship's first-mate and not boatswain, as he had been preparing to do aboard the _Lovelia_. Quinn has no time for this though; she must find out as much as she can about this new captain.

"What strange things?" Anything, even silly gossip, could prove helpful in dissecting her opponent. She needs to know as much as possible if she is to send a member of her crew aboard this other woman's ship in the dead of the night, far away from the aid of anybody else aboard the _Proditor_.

"Well, the usual housewives' gossip. They say that the young captain is a sailing prodigy and practically a daughter to Admiral Fabray ever since his eldest child ran from home and disgraced the—oh, my apologies captain!" Marley's cheeks colour with heat and Quinn almost laughs. She isn't bothered; it's quite obvious that she disgraced her family that night, four years ago.

"Never you mind, Miss Rose, please continue."

"Ah yes… well, in addition to that, every report mentions her beauty in some context. She is apparently one of the most exquisite faces in the capital city these days, and is often seen at parties with Admiral Fabray's youngest daughter," Marley says. Quinn frowns. She was once lauded as the most exquisite face in the capital, but of course this is not what bothers her. She worries over her youngest sister, constantly wondering if she is happy at home, what she looks like, and if she still loves Quinn. And the fact that she's been seen with this new captain, and frequently, is also worrying. Surely her baby sister couldn't be old enough to have taken on a lover?

"I see… have there been any reports about her behaviour aboard her ship?"

"Not that I can tell, captain, though I did hear an interesting piece of information that I believe will prove most useful. We have plenty of proof from Queen Susanna's people stating that this young captain is not particularly strict and, as such, only ever employs two watchmen on duty throughout the night. She chooses them specifically for this purpose, and they adjust their sleeping patterns so that there needn't be a changing of the guard. It sounds like she's fairly reckless, or arrogant, or perhaps just not the most…inspired." Something about the nonchalance of this faceless, nameless captain is definitely intriguing to Quinn; she can't quite place her finger on why though.

"It couldn't be…," Quinn starts, but she stops herself. _No. It isn't. It cannot be. _"I see. Thank you. You're free to go, get some rest before continuing your duties." The pair before her nod respectfully, making their way toward her cabin door.

"Will that be all, captain?" Marley asks quietly, turning back ever so slightly so that only one of her eyes is on Quinn.

"One thing more… if you could begin to come up with a list of people who you believe can handle this mission, that would be greatly appreciated," Quinn says. She already knows who she will send to kill the two idiots who'd gone and gotten themselves captured, but Quinn also knows that it is important to give people choice. If Finn and Marley were to elect an individual, their combined power aboard the ship would be enough to ensure that there was no question of who was most suited to the task; the chosen would have no choice. However, if the choices of her first mate and quartermaster were not in line with her thoughts, well, Quinn smiled to herself, she was still captain aboard this ship.

* * *

In two days' time, they catch up to the _La Putain. _Their location is perfect, if by chance or design, Quinn has no idea. It is dark out tonight; eerily so on this night of the new moon, and Quinn is thankful for that. Her golden hair would undoubtedly have given her away otherwise. Naturally, she had herself in mind when it became clear that only two people would be going through with the mission. There is no captain alive who would send a member of their crew into danger without offering to do so herself, and Quinn is not going to be the exception to that rule.

She had difficulty choosing a second, and in the end Quinn has decided on her master carpenter, Noelle, the daughter of Queen Sue's master carpenter. She's smart, and more importantly the young woman is steady. The nine-and ten year old is good with a gally, and Quinn has decided that the auburn-haired carpenter will not actually need to board _La Putain_. She would be a new breed of monster to allow an innocent young woman to tear her soul apart for two wretches like Sandy of Ryerson and that damned Schuester woman, Quinn thinks.

"Marley and Finnegan will be in charge of the ship until my return. Should Noelle return alone, you must elect a new captain from the two of them, understood?" The crew nods in unison, an example of perfect synchronicity. The two mentioned by name stand stiffly, tall and proud, just as she had instructed them to do. There is almost a melancholy look in their eyes, though Quinn chooses to ignore it.

"Are you ready, captain?" Noelle's voice and eyes are steely, and Quinn is glad that she's chosen the younger woman. She will not cow away at the sight of the blood that will undoubtedly christen Quinn's tunic by night's end.

"Aye. And you, Miss Noelle?"

"Aye." Quinn casts a quick glance towards Rachel, ever the lady, who practically throws herself into the blonde's arms.

"You be careful, Lucy, I'll never forgive you if you die aboard that ship," Rachel whispers fiercely, even using Quinn's childhood nickname as a means of…well, Quinn is not even entirely sure what Rachel was attempting to do with that nickname.

"Me? Die? Oh Rachel, loathe as I hate to admit it, I'm not going to be dying any time soon." Quinn laughs heartily, chancing fate with the uncontrolled volume of her mirth. The crew joins her, albeit in softer, more hushed tones. Not everybody aboard the _Proditor_ is as taunting of death as their captain.

"Don't get arrogant now, Captain Fabray. Be cautious, and be safe," says Helene, the old cook. She's a kindly woman with big blue-green eyes. This is to be her final raid, and then she will retire to the countryside with her daughter. Quinn has taken quite a liking to her and will be sad to see her go. Even though she knows that she has little to fear, the blonde has a passing thought of hoping to make it back alive to see Helene off into the last, more peaceful leg of her life's journey.

"I apologize if my brashness worries you, ma'am Helene," Quinn says gently, before her voice picks up in volume once more, so that her whole crew may hear. "I merely meant that as much as it causes me grief, I am my father's daughter, and that there is enough of him in me that I might just survive this night unscathed." With that she turns to leave, Noelle leading slightly so as to lower the gally into the water.

"Whatever could she mean by that?" Quinn hears the voice ask, and it's the voice of the young Gunner Puckerman, his lips inches away from Marley's ear. Quinn turns on her heel.

"I meant, Gunner Puckerman, that evil cannot be so easily killed." Marley is the first to note the teasing tone of Quinn's voice, and her attempts to stifle her laughter do not go unnoticed by the blonde, who nods softly. The rest of the crew follows suit, this time with a bit more freedom.

"The gally is ready, captain," Noelle says, and Quinn follows her into it. At the very least, she thinks as they dip their oars in and out of the water, she has left her crew with laughter, and a good memory of her. Something could always go wrong, she thinks, and if she does die, then at least the crew of the _Proditor _will have lost a beloved captain. It's a sobering thought, one that weighs her down in those fifteen minutes of rowing.

* * *

"You know what must happen, yes?" Quinn asks, though she knows that Noelle is well-versed in her duties. She waits for an answer as her eyes scan the _La Putain's _impressive flank, narrowing on instinct when her glance lands on the spare gally. There's a belaying pin placed near it, and if she could just… She motions for one of the ropes that she'd had Finn prepare the night before and the carpenter hands it to her, careful not to allow an oar to slip into the sea.

"Do not worry for me, captain Fabray, I will do exactly as you ask," Noelle says, and the lack of tremors in her voice is adequate reassurance. Quinn nods and tosses the rope upwards, letting out a sigh of relief when it circles itself around the belaying pin. If she'd have missed it, it would have made for quite the embarrassing scene indeed. With a firm tug on the rope, Quinn turns to Noelle. The woman hands her a second rope, coiled up in a tight circle.

"Now then, Miss Noelle, I will try to return as quickly as possible. You are to remain as close to the ship as possible. I'll tie this second rope to the belaying pin so that this will be easier for you…you only need to cut it and return to the ship should I fail. If I am not back here by the time the North Star shines at its peak height, you _must_ return to the ship." Easier said than done, Quinn thinks, as without even a small mast, the speed of a gally relies entirely on the strength of the person holding the oars. Still, Quinn doubts that Noelle will run into much difficulty.

"This is a brave thing you're doing captain…," Noelle says slowly. She looks like as if she wants to say more, but the young carpenter seems not to have the words she needs. If anything, the poor girl looks sad, and Quinn is vaguely struck with just how young the girl is. This is her first time aboard a ship; her father had specifically requested for her to be put in the care of "the kind Mistress Fabray", and yet at that age Quinn had just been living at an inn in a small, peaceful pirate village.

"Now, now, Miss Noelle, you're just as brave as I. Now listen to me, lass," she laughs at that; Santana's habit of deferring to younger women as 'lass' was beginning to wear on her. "Everything will as it will." She leaves it at that, turning away and beginning the hand-over-hand pull that will eventually bring her aboard _La Putain_.

* * *

As Marley had said, the captain of the _La Putain_ must be either incredibly brash or incredibly lax; perhaps both, Quinn thinks as she easily navigates her way into the galley below-decks. It's a well-kept holding cell, essentially, and after navigating through an interesting assortment of hay piles and what not, Quinn comes face to face with Sandy of Ryerson, and that dog Schuester's widow. Surprisingly, both are asleep, and Quinn thanks God that this will be a quick, easy kill.

They don't appear to be in a bad way, and Quinn can't tell if the pounding in her head is because she's disappointed that they are in good health, or pleased that this is so. She decides to just finish what she'd been tasked with doing; should they awaken she has no idea the kind of reaction that a sword-wielding Quinn would have on the pair of them. Careful not to make any sudden movements, she first hovers over the wench that Schuester had stupidly gotten himself bonded to. She surely won't be missed. By anyone.

Quinn is cautious as she fingers the hilt of her cutlass with one hand, the butt of her pistol with the other. She really doesn't want either of these two fools to wake up, but if it need be anyone, she's sure that Sandy would be much easier to persuade. With a firmer grip now, she slides her cutlass from its scabbard, thankful that she'd requested the sleek, dark wood be oiled before the _Proditor_'s departure. She should feel something, she thinks as she marks her target, thankful that the two prisoners were kept far enough as to offer some form of personal space. It will make things much easier for Quinn.

She should feel _something_; she feels no remorse, no repulsion at what she is about to do. Her apathy is more terrifying than the nature of this mission, but Quinn does not hesitate any longer. She is a pirate, and this is just another part of the job. With a quick motion Quinn punctures the chest of pirate lady Theresa Schuester, bringing the butt of her pistol down on the back of the sleeping woman's neck for good measure. The cracking sound of bone has never been so comforting. She cannot afford to prolong this process, and then there is still Sandy of Ryerson to consider. The older blonde woman slumps forward once, then twice as _La Putain _glides over a choppy wave. Quinn catches the woman's bleeding body before it can make hard contact with the ground, not wanting to wake the still-sleeping man only a mere few feet away.

"Ah!" Quinn nearly drops the still-warm body in surprise. The woman's eyes must have opened seconds before Quinn had destroyed the connection between her brain and her spinal cord, and the eerie, pained, dead gaze is unsettling, to say the least. Not wanting to waste time, Quinn lowers the body to the floor, rolling it over with the toe of her boot so as to avoid looking at the other woman's face.

Sandy of Ryerson is a heavy-sleeper, she notes, and vaguely she wonders if the rumours about his "business" are true. It is a common mark amongst the opiate-addicts that their sleeping habits are remarkably odd. Once again, Quinn fingers her sword and pistol almost shyly. She's ashamed before these people, these people who will not even live to say that they saw her face. It was not, she had previously believed, ever in her nature to kill, but looking at her now one would never be able to tell. She feels guilty; guilty for killing and guilty for almost…enjoying it. Still, she must. Employing the same technique she's just used on the dead woman in the galley, Quinn ensures the continued silence of Sandy of Ryerson. Her stomach lurches at the sights of them, and without thinking the blonde is bounding up the steps of the galley, pushing past the hatch and into the open air. Her cutlass and pistol clatter to the ground behind her.

* * *

Wiping her lips free of residue, Quinn watches as the remnants of her dinner are carried off by the waves. She can just barely make out Noelle's hair in the darkness, and with a soft voice she calls out to the girl. "Miss Noelle, return to the ship." A searchlight comes on a small ways off, and Quinn will not have one of her own put in jeopardy as a result of her error.

"But what of you, ma'am? Shan't you be coming with me?" The guard is making his way closer toward where Quinn is standing, unprotected and unarmed.

"Go now!" Her voice is a fierce whisper. "First-mate Finnegan and quartermaster Marley will know when to retrieve me, but you must go." Thankfully the grey-eyed woman in the gally seems to understand the urgency in her tone, for within a few seconds the rope tying Noelle's vessel to _La Putain_ has been severed, and the gentle sound of oars dipping in and out of the water reaches Quinn's ears.

Turning towards the source of the light, Quinn chances a step forward. There is an orderly row of barrels just a few paces away, and if she can make it there then she should be fine unless somebody goes to retrieve a midnight snack; her entire life rests on the diligence of _La Putain's_ crew. But wait! Her sword and pistol, where are they? Feeling in an almost blind panic, Quinn comes to realize that she must have dropped them. In the galley. With the bodies.

Dashing back towards the galley hatch, Quinn curses herself. Something so stupid and yet she could lose her head over it. She practically throws herself down the narrow wooden stairs, scraping her cheek against the rough wood of a support beam.

"Oi, midshipman Smythe! You've gone and left the hatch open again," a voice says from directly above her. She backs away from the light slipping in through the spaces in the hatch, cursing herself for not bringing even a simple cloth hood to cover her hair and face.

"My apologies Lieutenant Gilbert… shall I go down and check on the prisoners?" _Please no, please dear God, no._ Quinn may have improved drastically in terms of strength and skill, but she cannot emerge victorious against two well-rested, better-armed naval officers.

"No, midshipman Smythe, didn't the captain tell us just to stand watch? If she hears about us disobeying orders, you can be sure that your service aboard _La Putain_ will be terminated. Dishonourably."

"The captain is a brutal mistress," midshipman Smythe's voice whines. Quinn can practically feel the imperious stare that the officer speaking with Smythe is giving him. Any form of disrespectful comment about the captain of a ship under her father's indirect command, even one made in jest, is a dangerous risk. Still, she's almost positive that she knows that voice from somewhere... Sebastian?

"Amend your words at once, midshipman Harrison," cries the lieutenant, a note of scandal tinting his voice.

"O-of course… I meant no disrespect to the captain—

"See that it never happens again." The conversation turns towards talk of the prisoners, a topic which holds little interest for Quinn now. She turns away, nose wrinkling as the reminders of her sin lie there, motionless before her eyes. She cannot leave the galley tonight.

* * *

"Captain, captain! A ship is at our flank! CAPTAIN!" the loud bellowing of a worried sailor sounds out, echoing in Quinn's ears. _THE IMBECILES! _Her mind practically screams out insults and abuse. She had trusted Finn and Marley to make a wise decision concerning her retrieval and instead they chose this? There will be hell to pay if any of them survives this.

"All hands on deck, we cannot allow them to board!" Quinn, careful to sheathe her sword loosely, grips the trigger of her pistol. As she takes aim, preparing to blast the lock on the hatch apart, a hand appears, throwing it wide open. "They must be after the prisoners!" _Too late_, Quinn thinks as a sailor, the midshipman from last night, undoubtedly, throws himself down the hatch. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees her, and Quinn recognizes a childhood acquaintance in Sebastian Smythe. Unfortunately for the young man before her, this is not the Lucille of his memories, and young Sebastian is greeted with a pistol jammed into his stomach. He opens his mouth to scream as he drops to the floor, but Quinn is quicker in thinking. She snaps her boot downward, breaking his jaw, reducing the poor young man to a mess of tears, snot and blood. His low moaning cannot be heard over the growing din above-decks.

"I'm so sorry, Sebastian," she whispers as she steps over him, but the words sound hollow and fake.

Quinn charges forward, knowing that it is only a matter of seconds before she is recognized as a pirate. Her own clothes, while just as rich in texture and material, have the air of being passed on from another (Santana, in particular), and the lustrous red stands out amongst the darker, seriously decorated navy blue frocks of the Imperial Navy. The _Proditor _is surprisingly close, but it is the small gally bobbing between the two ships that is most eye-catching. Marley is sitting in the small vessel, oars resting calmly on her lap.

"Cannons at the ready, nobody fires without the captain's orders." Quinn doesn't even take the time to assess the situation, and before she truly knows what she is doing the blonde swan dives off the side of _La Putain_, splashing down neatly into the water below. She hears the lieutenant bellow a cry of surprise as her head bobs up over the water; she understands Naval discipline but surely the natural response here would be to have a few gunners train their pistols on her and fire. And why have they yet to shoot at Marley? The brunette pulls her into the gally with one hand, the other keeping a steady grip on the oars, and it's as much a surprise as anything else that Quinn manages to get in and begin rowing away before _La Putain's_ captain even makes an entrance on the deck. As she and Marley slowly make progress towards the _Proditor_ Quinn's mind whirs with questions. This is all far too easy.

"Captain! The pirates!" The lieutenant's excited voice carries well on the wind, and Marley seems to be watching the deck with worry. Her face is fully lit up in the sun and Quinn fights the urge to hiss at her to look away. It wouldn't do to have their faces so easily recognized.

"Men, stand down," the captain's voice carries even more smoothly than her lieutenant's; it's as if she wants to be heard. Quinn freezes, surprising Marley at the break in rhythm.

"What? But… Captain!"

"You heard me. Stand down. Let them go," says the captain of _La Putain_, and Quinn , in spite of herself, raises her eyes towards the sound. "Alright, everybody, return to the capital. And in the mean time, I would like to know..." As the large, shining brig pulls forward, Quinn's ears fail to pick up on the voice. Still, she rises to shaking knees on the gally and watches as _La Putain_ sails in off in the opposite direction.

"Danielle?"

* * *

**Annnnd ta-da! So I'm not going to bother you too much; just, thank you to everybody who reviews! I PM those of you who I can and as for guests, you're always appreciated :) However, my greatest thanks also to those of you who follow/favourite this story and/or me, or even those of you who just take the time to read TSOAA, even if you don't necessarily like it. You're all amazing, and I write not only for me, but because of you.**

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